Breaking Point
by IcedHeat
Summary: Everyone has a breaking point. She can't help but feel hers is several years too late in coming. (SJ Ship)
1. Chapter One

Title: Breaking Point

Chapter: 1 of 3

Email: She had to break sometime.

Rating: Teens.

Pairing: S/J all the way, baby!

Spoilers: Anything up to Citizen Joe is fair game, but really only anything relating to Pete.

Season: Late Season 8

Content Warnings: Sexual content, mild language.

Archive: SJFic: Yes. Anywhere else: Yes. (See, I'm an archiving slut!)

Author's Note: Please feedback me, I'm greedy.

Thanks to my boyfriend who serves as a Beta for me when I'm too shy to show anyone else. (If there are still crappy bits in here, you know who to blame!)

Disclaimer: I do not own SG-1. Stamps foot childishly. Or Jack. Throws self down onto bed and weeps self-pityingly.

Breaking Point – Chapter One

When I do finally break, it is raining. The part of me that's still whole is able to appreciate the irony of this.

Nevertheless, I do not take my car.

I make the long walk to his house in the pouring rain. Part of me thinks I'm being overly melodramatic and thinks he'll agree.

The rest of me knows he'll understand.

I make it to his house and find I can't remember the journey. I know it happened: I'm wet through, but I don't remember it.

There are lights on inside, and I thank whatever deity that's still listening that he's here. I hadn't checked.

I approach the front door and, knowing it's not locked, I open it.

I can hear men's voices coming from the den.

When the front door clicks shut someone says in an almost bored tone, "Jack, someone just came in your house."

Before he can even stand I have stepped into the den.

There are three other men there with him. They are playing poker.

All four are staring at me as I drip rainwater onto his floor.

I find my voice. "Sorry to interrupt, General, sir. I just wanted to inform you that… I resign."

There is stunned silence for a moment.

Then: "Crap, Carter."

One fluid move takes him from his couch to my side.

His hand goes to the small of my back and he gently propels me towards his kitchen.

He sits me in one of the kitchen chairs and grabs his jacket from where it lies on the countertop.

"Here." He holds it out to me. I make no move to take it. Now I am here I am completely numb and content to let him lead me.

Unfazed, he moves around behind me and lays the jacket over my shoulders. "Don't go anywhere." He orders, turning and heading back into the den.

"Sorry guys. I gotta deal with this."

Hearing this I wonder briefly if he's angry at me for coming here tonight. Then I decide I don't care.

I hear the three men rise. One says: "Excuses, O'Neill. You were just losin'."

"I was not." He replies, mock indignation in his tone.

"Show us your hand, then." Another man challenges.

He says nothing for a moment. Then: "No."

"Hah!" The first man exclaims triumphantly.

"Told you." The second adds.

I hear the front door open. One of the men says, "See you later, Jack."

"Later." He replies.

The second man says, "Same time next week?"

"Same time." He confirms.

The last man hangs back slightly. When the others have driven away in cars I didn't notice, he asks, "Everything okay, Jack?" His tone is quiet and serious.

"It's fine. I'll see you next week, Andy."

"Who is she?" Andy asks.

"A friend."

"And everything's okay?" Andy asks again.

"Not yet." He admits, before adding, "It'll be fine."

"Night, Jack."

"Night."

I hear the front door close. I hear him let out a breath as if preparing himself for what's coming next. I hear him re-enter the kitchen.

I am still huddled in the chair, shivering.

He looks at me for a moment. Then he sighs, repeats, "Crap, Carter." And heads over to the countertop. He begins making hot drinks.

For the first time in years, or maybe for the first time ever, I allow myself to watch him.

As he moves around his kitchen it is obvious he is doing it on auto-pilot. Knowing him so well makes it easy for me to see that his thoughts are racing, even though there are no tangible outward signs.

His lean frame is tense. Long fingers tap nervously on the countertop. He finishes the drinks and brings them over to the kitchen table.

He sets one of the cups down on the table in front of me. "Drink it."

I lift the cup and drink from it, almost burning myself on the hot liquid. It is hot chocolate.

From the scent emanating from his cup I can tell he is drinking coffee.

We drink in silence. I want him to speak, to tell me what is going on in his head, but he says nothing.

I finish my hot chocolate and set the cup down. He follows suit, even though his cup is still half full.

"Come on." He says, turning and exiting the kitchen.

I follow him through the house until we reach the bathroom. He runs the shower and hands me a large towel, along with some sweatpants and a t-shirt. "Here, you're soaked." I take them and he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

I pause a moment, still holding the towel and clothes. Then I drop them to the floor, undress and climb under the hot water of the shower.

As the water begins to heat me up, my numbness recedes. I begin to wonder what he's up to. Why he hasn't said anything about my resignation.

I finish in the shower and climb out, wrapping myself in the towel. I dry myself off, becoming more and more curious about what he's up to.

I dress myself in the clothes he provided, luckily my underwear is relatively dry and I can put it back on. I gather my soaking wet clothes and the towel I used and head out of the bathroom.

I find him in the den, talking on the phone.

I stop in the doorway and listen.

"I don't know, Daniel, she just turned up… I know the last mission was completely messed up but… it's _Carter_."

He listens for a minute and I get the impression that Daniel is berating him for being insensitive and expecting too much of me.

"I don't think that… Fine. Fine. Tell Teal'c you're on downtime until-"

I step into the room and he spins, cutting off his sentence. "We'll talk later, Daniel." He finishes, hanging up the phone.

"Until what?" I ask.

He doesn't answer me. Instead he stands and holds his hands out to me. "Gimme those."

I hand over the wet clothes and the towel and follow him into the kitchen. "Until what?" I repeat.

He sighs, dumps the wet things on the kitchen table. "Until I work out what the hell is goin' on with you, Colonel."

"It's Doctor, General, I resigned, remember?"

His hands come up to scrub over his face in his usual frustrated gesture. "I'm not accepting your resignation, Carter."

"I see." I turn and walk back into the den. He follows me. I pick up his phone and begin to dial.

"Who you callin'?" He asks.

"General Hammond."

"Why?"

"To resign."

He walks over and takes the phone from my hand. He hits the 'end' button and tosses the phone on the couch.

"Why?"

"Because you won't accept my resignation." I answer, knowing that's not what he wanted to know.

"Carter."

Without the numbness the rain provided my brokenness is raw and exposed, as is my voice when I say, "Because I can't do this anymore, Jack."

He tenses at my use of his first name. Not General. Not sir. Jack.

When he doesn't speak I tell him, "I broke up with Pete."

"Why?"

"He couldn't understand. He got mad because I couldn't tell him everything."

"He's just worried about you. He'll come around."

I shake my head.

"So that's why you're resigning? 'Cause your fiancé doesn't like your job? C'mon Carter."

"It's not just that it's… the mission…"

He cuts me off. "I don't buy that, Carter. You've had tough missions before."

I recall the mission.

SG-1 and SG-9, accompanied by one General Jack O'Neill had gated to a planet that was supposed to be peaceful. We were there for some special ceremony celebrating our new status as allies.

We were under fire almost from the moment we got there.

All hell had broken loose. I could just about manage to keep Daniel and Teal'c in my peripheral vision as we retreated to the gate.

Out of the eight of us that had left the SGC, only five came back. Three members of SG-9 were dead.

A staff blast had just missed Teal'c, and his arm was burned.

I had lost three people in one fell swoop.

But the thing that bothered me most was the fact that, as we were running back to the gate I lost sight of the General.

I radioed him, "Sir?"

When there was no answer I tried again. "General, do you read?"

I was desperately trying to prevent myself from going back to look for him, trying to keep running for the gate, when I head, "Carter, I'm fine. Get to the damn gate and keep it open, will ya?"

His voice sounded strained, but I did as I was told, like a good little soldier and ran on through the event horizon after Daniel and the one remaining member of sg-9. Teal'c followed us through.

He didn't come though the wormhole until a two full minutes after Teal'c had already walked down the ramp. We had been broadcasting a constant radio signal to keep it open for him.

"Lock it up!" He yelled at the gate technician on duty, who complied.

I suddenly realised that I was almost hyperventilating. _What if's _racing though my mind.

What if he hadn't come through?

What if he'd died?

What if I'd lost him?

It was then that he decided that he should pass out from blood loss.

As he hit the ramp I numbly observed the blade sticking out of his shoulder. I took in the large red patch spreading over his uniform and I cursed the fact that we are not in the habit of wearing flak vests to dinner with our allies.

I was dimly aware of Daniel yelling for a medic, as I stared in horror at the prone body of my CO.

But he is right; we have had missions go wrong before. And he is fine. He is alive.

But that's not the point.

I suddenly realise that even though I have managed to get here, I'm still going to find it hard to talk to him.

"Carter?" He prompts, and I realise I've been silent too long.

"The mission wasn't the only reason I broke up with Pete." I say, avoiding having to voice the reason I am here. The reason I resigned.

He sighs and sinks down onto the couch. "Sit."

I sit next to him, careful to move the phone out of the way first.

"You know," he begins, his tone conversational, "I'm not really good at this stuff."

"What stuff?" I ask, glad of the distraction.

He shrugs. "All this," he gestures as if to encompass everything, "talking stuff. Maybe you should talk to Daniel." He concludes.

"I can't." I tell him.

He looks at me, confused. "Why not?"

"I need to talk to you."

He looks puzzled for a moment, then says, "Oh."

I've finally managed to pluck up the courage to say what I came here to say. Part of me wishes I'd just blurted it out when I got here. It occurs to me that maybe he knew what I was going to say, and delayed me to give me time to think myself out of it.

"When I got home tonight Pete was already there. He wanted to know why I was late. I couldn't tell him. He wanted to know what was wrong with me. I couldn't tell him."

"We gave Pete security clearance, you could have told him." He points out.

"No, I couldn't." I reply. "I couldn't tell him because he wouldn't understand. I broke it off with him because…" I pause, the last eight years holding my tongue.

"Because…" he makes a 'continue' gesture. I look at him, but his face is difficult to read at the best of times.

"Because he's not you. And I was stupid to think that I could move on from something I've never had." I say it quickly, before either of us can stop me.

For a full minute he just looks at me. Then he scrubs his hand through his hair and says, again, "Crap, Carter."

"I don't expect anything from you," I hasten to add, "I just… can't do this anymore."

"So you walk to my house in the rain and resign?" He asks.

I jerk my head up, he sounds amused.

"I didn't plan for it to be raining." I tell him, my eyes narrowing at his tone.

He actually smirks at me now. "Oh, so you planned this?"

"No." I insist, indignant at his amusement.

"Carter." He says, drawing my name out.

"I didn't."

He nods, "Yeah, this isn't smart enough to be a Carter plan." I glare at him. But he's been glared at by four-star generals and Goa'uld's, and a mere Doctor of Astrophysics does not scare him. He sighs. "Carter, I'm not gonna accept your resignation."

I sigh and lean forward to pick up the phone. "Then I guess I'd better call General Hammond." I tell him, beginning to dial.

"Oh yeah?" He says, still smirking. "And what're you gonna tell him?"

"That I want to resign and take a scientific post. I can stay on SG-1-"

"But you can't command."

"No. But I can stay on the team as a civilian."

"What are you gonna say about _why_ you're resigning?"

"The truth. I need to get a life." The operator answers. "General Hammond, please. It's Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter, out of Cheyenne Mountain. Yes I'll hold."

"You'll be on hold for hours." He warns.

"I've waited eight years. Hours don't make that much of a difference."

"It's the middle of the night."

"They'll put me through to wherever he is."

"What do you want from me?" He asks.

"I told you, I don't expect anything."

"What do you _want_?" He asks.

I look at him a long moment. The awful music from General Hammond's call-waiting droning in my ear. "I want this." I gesture between us. "I want to be happy."

"And you think I'll make you happy?" His tone is disbelieving, incredulous. "C'mon, Carter, you're supposed to be a genius."

"If you don't want the same thing, its okay, Jack. But I can't continue to live like this. I can't keep watching you die and know that I never _tried_."

"I didn't die!" He says indignantly, and I get the sense that he is clutching at straws.

"I need to change something." I say.

"It's not that I don't… God, Carter, you're not making this easy. I don't want you to give up your career for me. You've worked too hard to get where you are." He pauses, "I will always be here for you."

Hearing the exact same words come out of his mouth as I heard in my hallucination freaks me out slightly. "No." I say quietly.

"No?" He asks.

"I'm tired of watching life go by while I'm busy working. I love my job, but… I can still do my job whether I'm Colonel Carter or not. But the only way I can be with you is if I'm not."

"You're not makin' much sense here, Carter." He says.

"Sorry." There is a click on the phone line. I open my mouth to speak, but it's just the tape restarting.

But he sees I'm about to speak and says, "Don't do this now. Sleep on it."

"No."

"Sam, I couldn't stand to have you hate me, 'cause you gave up too much to be with me." He says quietly.

I look at him, meeting his eyes. "Never gonna happen." I tell him, sounding like him as I do it.

"It might."

"I need you." I tell him, and as the reason for my brokenness comes out, I begin to cry. Cursing myself I hurriedly swipe at the rogue tears.

He gently takes the phone from my hand and presses the 'end' button.

"Jack, please."

"Sleep on it." He orders softly.

"Here?" I ask, looking down at my hands, unable to meet his eyes.

"No." He says.

As I begin to feel awful again he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. He leads me through his house to his bedroom. "Here." He says.

I sit down on the edge of the bed. Only the light spilling in from the hallway is illuminating the bedroom.

"What about you?" I ask.

"I'll take the couch."

I look him up and down and call to mind a picture of his couch. "You're too tall."

"Carter, I've slept on my couch before."

"Stay." I say.

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"I don't care." I tell him. I don't want it to seem like I'm begging, but I need him to stay.

He stands in the doorway for a long moment, watching me.

He nods almost imperceptibly. I pull off the sweatpants, lift the coverlet and slide underneath it.

He pushes the bedroom door shut and walks around to the other side of the bed.

I lie on my back and watch him. He slides his jeans off and climbs into the bed, careful to stay away from me.

We lay there in silence for a while, though neither of us is ready to sleep.

In the darkness I start counting.

_One_

_Two_

_Three_

_Fo-_

"You okay?" He asks.

I smile, knowing he can't see it. "Yes."

"Night, Carter."

"Night, Jack."

10


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer, author's notes etc in Chapter One.

Breaking Point – Chapter Two

"Carter."

I wake up from the slight doze I have dropped into. I seem to have snuggled up against him. My left arm and leg are slung over his body possessively and my head is resting on his chest.

"Carter."

"My name is Sam." I reprimand gently. I always thought it'd be me that had issues calling him by his first name, not the other way around. Seems I was wrong.

He is silent for a moment. Then, "Carter… not that I don't think this is nice, but…"

I sigh. "What?"

"What are you doin'?"

"And here I thought you were a man of the world."

He sighs, exasperated. "Fine. _Why_ are you doin' what you're doin'?"

"Because."

"Uh huh. Because. That's all?"

"Yep."

"Carter…" He says again.

'_Oh god, he's almost whining now.' _I think. Aloud I say, "That's it."

"What?" He sounds slightly scared.

"I'm calling General Hammond."

"You agreed to sleep on it."

"You keep calling me Carter." I complain.

"Because in the morning, we're gonna wake up and you're gonna freak and start with the 'General' and the 'sir' thing." He says.

Even though I'm still sleepy I detect a note of regret in his voice. Some of me starts to heal.

"No, in the morning I was going to call General Hammond and resign. But I'm going to go and do it now."

"Don't."

"Why?"

"I'll retire."

"You'd be bored."

He is silent for a moment, as if thinking over what he'd do with a third retirement. "Good point."

"Besides Hammond and the Pentagon agree that you're essential to the program."

"How d'you know that?"

"General Hammond told me."

"Oh."

"Like I said, I can stay with the program as a civilian."

"Who else is gonna keep Daniel and Teal'c in line for me?"

"You'll find someone."

"_I'll _find someone?" He twists slightly to look down at me.

"I have every confidence in you."

He snorts his amusement at that. Then he is silent for a long moment.

"Don't you want this?" I ask, cursing myself for suddenly feeling so afraid and showing it.

"Carter." He says, his tone indicating that he feels he shouldn't have to _say _it.

I move away from him and sit up. "Jack?"

"What?" He sits up too, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

"I need to know if you want this, or not."

"How can you ask me that?"

"You've never said." I point out.

"What about the whole… zanex thing?" He counters, after fishing for the word a moment.

"That was four years ago, Jack. And you haven't said anything since."

"You were the one that wanted to leave it in the room, Carter."

"_Sam._" I reiterate. "And you agreed."

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"I still need to hear it."

"Hear what?"

"What you want." I say, ignoring his blatant baiting.

"Why? You were the one that got engaged to someone else." It's a low blow, and he acknowledges this with a slight wince as he hears his own words. I suspect he didn't mean to say that.

Nevertheless, his words hurt, they make me angry. My anger combines with my brokenness and causes me to let slip something _I_ didn't intend. "Because I was afraid!"

He stares at me for a moment, mouth slightly open.

His silence, as always, provokes me into explanation. "I was afraid you didn't… _care_." I say, stressing the word that means so much more than it should. "That I was holding on to you for the wrong reasons. Afraid because you make me feel too much and not think enough. I was afraid because-"

He is kissing me.

And there it is.

The reason I was afraid.

Feeling too much.

It's too much.

_He's_ too much.

And suddenly it's all there again.

The gut-wrenching grief and guilt over the last mission.

The feeling of suffocation born of my rushing into an 'us' with Pete.

The deep-rooted fear that Pete would never be enough.

Could never be enough.

And the feelings that go back almost eight years.

The anger at him.

The frustration with him.

The fear of him. For him.

The trust in him.

The need for him.

The pain and subsequent brokenness from trying to live without him.

From trying to replace him.

He begins to pull away from me.

A muffled moan of loss escapes my lips and I grab the back of his head, pulling him back to me.

After what seems like all too short a time he pulls away again, and does not allow me to pull him back.

I am utterly speechless. Instead of feeling broken I now feel light headed, and I just know that the goofiest grin _ever_ is at this very moment gracing my face.

"Better?" He asks his voice low and husky.

I nod mutely and reach for him again.

"No." He says. I look at him, confusion and hurt evident in my features. "This doesn't solve anything." He explains. "This just makes things even more difficult."

I drag the coverlet up and pull it around my shoulders, shrouding myself in it.

He shivers in the cold air of the bedroom.

I can feel myself breaking into a thousand pieces all over again. "You're cruel." I tell him.

"I'm not cruel, just a realist."

"Since when?"

"Since always, Colonel." He tells me.

"Don't call me that. You call me Sam, or Doctor. Not Colonel. I resigned."

"I can't do that." He says his voice unexpectedly quiet.

"Why not?"

He sighs. "Because this isn't real." He says, covering his face with his hands.

"What?" I exclaim, thrown by his explanation.

"This isn't real. In the morning we're gonna wake up and nothing will have changed, 'cept we'll feel a whole helluva lot worse."

"Why?" My voice is small.

"Why what?" He asks through his fingers.

"Why won't you even consider this? Are you so afraid that it might actually work?"

"Yes! No! I don't know!" He sounds uncharacteristically flustered. "Crap, Carter." He says, his voice muffled by his hands.

"I love you, Jack." I say softly, playing my ace.

It seems to take a moment for what I've said to filter through. When it finally does, one of his pinkie fingers moves to one side to reveal one eye looking at me curiously.

I know its coming. It always does when he knows perfectly well what's going on, but wants to put off dealing with it for just a few extra seconds.

Here it comes, folks, the ever-present-

"What?" He asks.

"I. Love. You." I say, finding it no easier to say the second time around. Probably due to the fact that he hasn't actually reacted yet.

When he uncovers his face he's smiling. No, scratch that. He's _grinning_. "Really?" He asks.

I just look at him.

"Oh! Right." He says, managing to wipe the grin from his features.

He says nothing.

For a long time.

I decide to go for broke. "Jack?"

"Samantha?" He asks. He's playing with me now, his seriousness of a moment ago forgotten.

"Jonathan?"

"Ah!" He holds up an index finger in a familiar gesture. "Less of the long name," he seems to remember calling me Samantha, which prompts him to add, "Sam."

I glare at him.

"What?" He asks, feigning ignorance.

"I need to know, Jack." I tell him, my brokenness and insecurity returning in full force.

"I love you."

I hadn't expected him to just say it. He catches me off guard and I stutter slightly. "Oh!" I say, tears beginning to form again. _'Dammit!'_

"You thought differently?" He asks softly.

"You keep pushing me away. I resigned and you still keep pushing me away."

He looks at me for what seems like an eternity. Just looks at me. Studying me like I would study some piece of alien technology.

When he does finally speak his voice is soft. "I'm scared, Sam."

I look at him, totally speechless. He squirms under my scrutiny.

"Why?"

He thinks before answering. "Lots of reasons. There was the whole… Pete thing."

I wince and open my mouth to speak, but he waves me into silence.

"I mean, the fact that it took that last mission to bring us to this point does not suggest good things to me." He pauses, and I sense him regrouping, pulling himself together. "And there is the fact that the world might end." He adds, smiling slightly.

As he probably planned, I am completely flummoxed by his last reason. "What?" I ask.

"What what?"

"Why would the world end?"

"Did in all the other realities." He points out.

I think for a moment, not taking my eyes off him, knowing he hates to be watched.

"Okay," I say at last, "First of all, the whole Pete thing happened because I was scared, and I explained it earlier."

"I got it," he says, motioning for me to continue.

"Secondly, the mission just made me realise that I couldn't stand to lose you like that, Jack. I couldn't stand to lose you and know that we never tried this. That we just pretended it wasn't there."

He nods.

"And thirdly. The world is not going to end. I won't let it." He smiles at that. I return the smile and say, "Anything else?"

"I let you know in the morning." He says, sliding back downwards on the mattress and trying to yank the coverlet from my grip.

He only succeeds in pulling both me and the coverlet on top of himself. It takes him a moment to realise that I'm not going to move.

"Uh… Carter?"

"You were being deliberately cruel." I tell him.

"How?" He asks, the question of whether or not I'll stop crushing him momentarily forgotten.

"Do you know how hard it was for me to say what I just said?"

"Yep." He says flippantly. Damn him! He's _grinning _again.

"Why?" I ask, fixing him with a meaningful look.

"Because just saying it doesn't fix anything. We're still stuck with the way things are."

I look down at my body pressing down onto his. "I like the way things are." I tell him suggestively. I am enjoying this new freedom granted by my brokenness, but, truth be told, I would have thought that he would have caved long before now.

"Don't." He moans, his eyes closing.

"Why not?"

"Because we can't." He tells me.

"Yes we can. Haven't you worked that out yet, Jack? There is no way I am continuing with a life where we can't do this. There's no point." He still steadfastly refuses to open his eyes. "Hasn't it occurred to you that any time you send me through that gate, I might not come back?" I ask him softly.

His eyes snap open, and I gasp at what I see. In his eyes I can see his own brokenness lurking. I wonder how long he has lived with it silently.

"Jack…" I say softly.

"It's occurred to me." He says. "But this," he gestures between us, "This has always been your call, Sam."

"Then why fight me tonight?" I ask him.

"Because I would rather not have you at all, than have you and lose you."

I am surprised and moved by this eloquence coming from a man who would claim he is anything but articulate.

When I am able to speak my voice is husky. "Trust me to know what I want, Jack. Its taken me long enough to figure it out."

He regards me for an immeasurable length of time, and I am afraid again. Afraid at the intensity of his gaze, at the fact that I cannot read him, cannot tell what he is thinking.

Then his hands come up and pull my head down towards his. Just before our lips meet he says, "This is a bad idea."

My retort is smothered by his mouth. As his lips move down my neck I manage to say – gasp – "What happened to being scared?"

"I was never very good at it." He murmurs against my throat, making me shiver and giggle softly.

"No giggling, doctor." He reminds me.

"Jack…"

He sighs against my collarbone, making me shiver again. "What?"

"Too many clothes."

I feel him grin against my skin. Then his hands travel down my back to the bottom of the t-shirt I'm wearing and pulls it off, then he reaches behind me and deftly unsnaps my bra. I'm now wearing just my panties and I'm feeling more than a little self-conscious.

"Jack…"

Suddenly he rolls us both, ending up with him on top of me. He pushes himself up on his arms and surveys my body. I feel myself blush under his intense scrutiny.

His eyes are dark, the look on his face feral. I remember seeing this in him when we were infected with the 'caveman' virus almost eight years ago.

This time he does not try to control it. Does not even attempt to stop himself staring at me.

I decide to take matters into my own hands, literally. I slide my hands over the material of his t-shirt, finding the hem and pulling it upwards.

When he gets the message he begins to help me, shrugging out of the t-shirt.

"Now we're even." I say, amazed at my own breathlessness as I look him over.

He grins at me, and begins his delectable torture of my neck again.

"You know," I manage, between gasps, "I'm beginning to wish we'd done this a lot sooner."

I feel him smile against my skin. Then he gently bites at my neck, making me gasp louder.

"Jack!"

"Thinking too much." He complains.

I nod and let my hands gently roam down his sides to the waistband of his boxer shorts.

His ever-questing mouth has found my breasts now, his activity there making it harder and harder for me to control my vocal appreciation of him.

I finally manage to get him out of his underwear, not that he is much help in my endeavour. He can be a very distracting man sometimes, especially when his hands are doing… what they're doing.

My panties are not exactly a real barrier, and they magically disappear a split second after his boxer shorts.

I can't take it. I can't wait anymore.

"Jack… now." I order him.

He looks at me, as if he still can't believe this is happening. I know how he feels; I'm having the same problem.

Tonight I've gone from being so broken that I didn't care what happened next, to knowing that if he's not inside me right now I might just die.

"Jack…" I moan softly.

He looks up and me and smiles. Then he shakes his head.

He is stretched full length along my body, propping himself up on his left elbow.

He begins to idly slide his right hand down the length of my body. Between my breasts, over the slight curve of my stomach that I don't seem to be able to eradicate, no matter how many crunches I do.

His hand continues on its journey, his surprisingly light touch making me shiver. He just smiles and skims his hand over my lower belly.

Now my whole body tenses in anticipation of his next move. I look at his face, but he doesn't meet my gaze, his eyes intent on his hand's location.

As his fingers slide between my thighs I gasp, eliciting a slight smile from him.

I glare at him, "You're enjoying this too much, flyboy."

"Shh."

As he continues his torture my own hands begin to get restless.

As he begins to nuzzle my throat again, my hand reaches its goal.

"Crap, Carter!" He hisses against my neck, making me giggle outright this time.

Suddenly his hand stops and slides back up my body to being playing with my nipple. I can smell myself on his fingers and it's driving me crazy. "Jack…" I never thought I'd hear myself begging him, but I am. Complete surrender. That's what I came here for.

My left hand settles on his hip, begins pulling him towards me.

He seems to get the message – at last – and settles himself firmly between my thighs, making me gasp at the feel of him.

He bends his head to kiss me and just as his lips contact mine, he thrusts into me. My tiny scream is smothered by his mouth.

He is not exactly a small man, and it takes a moment for me to adjust to his size.

For a long moment I hold his gaze. Both of us are breathing hard, and the fingers of my left hand have somehow become interlaced with those of his right.

Then he begins to move.

I find that I can't think. I can only feel as he strokes in and out of me.

My breath is catching in my throat and my back is arching upwards, so that my breasts rub against his chest.

He growls deep in his throat, his mouth lowering to my nipple. Sucking, licking, biting.

He thrusts particularly hard, making me gasp.

He looks up at me. His pupils are dilated so far that his eyes are almost black. "You okay?" His voice is deliciously hoarse and I feel my body tremble in response.

I grab his head and pull it down to meet mine, kissing him fiercely.

He reaches down and catches my right leg behind the knee and pulls my leg upwards. He does the same with my left, giving himself greater access to me.

The depth of penetration is almost too much. My eyes want to roll back in my head.

I can feel my inner muscles begin to contract around him. I can tell he feels it too, his eyes immediately snap to mine.

I feel vindicated in my choice to come here tonight. Jack is intimately in tune with my body in a way that no other man has ever been.

His mouth has returned to my neck, his right hand slides between our bodies, long fingers unerringly finding my clit.

I have never been one of those women who moans her lover's name incessantly, as if she cannot say anything else. But he makes me one. I've never been one of those women who comes so hard she is left shaking, almost crying in the aftermath. But he's changing that now.

"Jack… Jack… Oh _God_, Jack! Don't stop. _Please_!"

My eyes close and I throw my head back.

"Sam. Look at me." It's an order. The part of my brain that's responded to his orders for eight years complies.

Just as my eyes meet his my orgasm explodes within me, around him.

And I don't believe it. I'm screaming. It began as his name, but now I'm just screaming.

It seems like an eternity before I'm able to enjoy a semblance of coherent thought. Somewhat coherent anyway.

Jack is smirking at me. "Jesus you're beautiful, Samantha." He murmurs.

I reach up and grab his head again, kissing him harder than before. My fingers lace through his short, unruly hair, my nails scratch down the back of his neck.

"Jesus, Sam!" He hisses.

I seem to have regained some control over the lower half of my body and I bring my hips up to meet his.

His thrusts have become less controlled now. His breathing more and more erratic.

I grin at the effect I'm having on him.

I kiss him again, my tongue thrusting into his mouth, just as he thrusts into me and I feel him come.

He buries his face in my throat, a primal sound tearing from deep in his chest.

He is lying on top of me. Heavy and sated. I am too weak to object to being crushed, and besides, it's kind of nice.

"You okay?" His voice is low and rumbles through his chest. I can feel it against my own.

He rolls off me and out of me, I almost moan at the loss. Almost. I'm still determined not to be one of _those_ women.

"Sam? You okay?"

I realise I haven't answered him and look up at him smiling brightly.

"Better than okay. So much better than okay." I tell him, making him smile in response.

I rest my head on his shoulder. He curls his arm around me. We fall asleep like that, entwined in one another.

11


	3. Chapter Three

Breaking Point – Chapter Three

"I take it you've accepted my resignation?" I ask sleepily, having just awoken to find myself in the same position I fell asleep in.

Jack, of course, is already awake, his fingers gently stroking my bare back. "Nah. I think I'd enjoy a court-martial." He says, his tone less sarcastic than usual.

"Funny." I tell him. I just know he's smirking at the top of my head. My hand traces lazy circles on his abdomen. One of my circles goes wide and my fingers brush lightly over his side.

He flinches. "Stop it."

I look up at him. "You're ticklish." I accuse him.

He looks uncomfortable. "Yeah… so?"

"All these years and I never knew…" I tease, tracing circles once more.

"Yeah. I can see how it shoulda been one of the first things I said to you." He says, his right hand coming up to capture my left and still its languid circling.

"I still don't think you should quit the Air Force." He says.

"It's not up to you." I tell him.

"No seriously, hear me out. I've been thinking about this." I giggle at that. "Shut up." He growls. "I could retire-"

"I told you that's not an option."

"Sam, will you listen to me for once?" He pleads, somewhat unfairly. I open my mouth to speak, but he drops my hand and puts a finger to my lips. "Shh. I could run the SGC as a civilian." He unveils his brilliant plan.

And it is brilliant. I guess. "But-"

"No buts. They let Weir run the SGC. She was a civilian." He points out.

"She was a doctor."

"You sayin' I serve no purpose if I'm not a General? Gee, Carter, I'm hurt." He says, his tone full of false pain.

I look up and glare at him. "No. That's not what I'm saying. I just think that this is the best all-round solution."

"How? You'll lose your command."

"I know, and it's a sacrifice, believe me." I pause. "But not as much of a sacrifice as I would be making if I stayed in the Air Force."

He gives me his perfected blank look and waits for me to go on.

"Think about it… if I stay team-leader of SG-1, I couldn't really have kids, could I? It wouldn't be fair."

He is now staring at me with something akin to abject terror in his eyes.

"Jack?"

"Kids?" He asks.

"Yes, Jack. Kids. Is that a problem?"

He is silent for a moment, then says, "I didn't exactly do such a great job the first time around, Sam." His voice is quiet, his eyes subdued.

"Shut up."

"What?"

"Shut up. I don't wanna hear it. From what little I've seen and Daniel's been able to gather, you were a great father. Fantastic. What happened to Charlie wasn't your fault, Jack."

"I know." He says, still quiet.

I narrow my eyes at him.

"What?" He asks.

"You don't believe it though, do you? Jack, I want children. I want _your_ children. And I know you want children."

He opens his mouth to protest.

"Ah!" I cut him off, using his own exclamation to do it. "I am not going to let either of us get in the way of that. Okay?"

He smiles at me, causing the feelings of intense delight and desire this ignites in me throwing my brokenness of last night into sharp relief. "You'd better call George."

"Don't change the subject." I tell him, resisting the urge to pick up a pillow and hit him with it.

"I'm not!" He protests. "I just think you should tell him about your plan before he comes to visit and finds a cradle in your lab."

"Good idea." I say, rising. He stays in the bed. I look back at him and catch him staring at my naked body. "So… kids?" I ask.

He looks up and catches my eye.

"Yeah, sure, you betcha." He drawls, grinning.

I nod and wander out of the room in search of a phone. As I reach the door I hear him ask, "What d'you think about Grace, if it's a girl?"

Oh yeah. _So_ not broken anymore.

3


End file.
